


For The Best

by vials



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: F/M, but here's another take enjoy lads, i'm sure this trope has been done a million times before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15168860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: Later, they called it a mental breakdown. A lapse in judgement. A strange kind of stress that manifested itself in an equally strange way. No matter how many times they tried to explain it to him, Kondraki maintained that it was all bollocks.A desire to protect the humanoids,they’d said,turned into what was believed to be romantic affection.





	For The Best

Later, they called it a mental breakdown. A lapse in judgement. A strange kind of stress that manifested itself in an equally strange way. No matter how many times they tried to explain it to him, Kondraki maintained that it was all bollocks. _A desire to protect the humanoids,_ they’d said, _turned into what was believed to be romantic affection._

It wasn’t really, his supporters had claimed. He didn’t really love her, and all the plans to escape were nothing but fantasy. He was sick, they said. He was sick and delusional and clearly psychotic – no one in their right mind could have believed such a thing would be possible. Certainly not _him,_ who of all people should have known better. There had never been any behaviour like this before. It had even been argued that his breakdowns were usually of the explosive variety, and that this differentiation from the norm was a clear sign of just how bad things had gotten.

Kondraki never said much during the hearings. In an odd way, it was almost like how he imagined it would be in court. A jury of his peers, a judge, his lawyer – though of course this lawyer wasn’t a lawyer, just somebody who had done a lot of extensive analysis regarding his psychological condition and knew a lot about the tedious guidelines and bureaucracy that made up the Foundation’s stance on Ethics, whatever that was supposed to mean. It seemed it changed every case. 

“I did love her,” he mumbled, barely aware of it, during one of those endless psych evaluations they put him through after the plan was discovered. Kondraki still didn’t know how. He thought he had been careful, damn it. “I did. I do. I don’t know what all this… this bullshit about delusions or whatever is. Is there any need for this?”

He lifted up his arm as he spoke, the cuffs securing him to the chair rattling as they pulled tight. He thought he would have put more anger into it, but he found he barely had the energy. What did it matter anymore, anyway? It was all ruined. 

“I’m afraid so,” replied Dr Schuler, and Kondraki sighed. 

“I thought this was meant to be an investigation.”

“It is.”

“Well, seems you’ve made up your mind.”

“It’s not for my safety so much as yours, Dr Kondraki.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Schuler shrugged. “That might be so, but it’s the bullshit we have to deal with right now, regardless of whether we want to or not.”

“You know,” Kondraki said, awkwardly pointing a finger at him, “if this were any other time, I might like you. Where have they been keeping you locked up? All the other shrinks just tell me to look at the fucking patterns and tell them what I see.”

“I deal with more specialised cases than the mandatory evaluations, Dr Kondraki.”

“Such as alleged romantic involvement with Scips?” 

Schuler gave a small smile and leaned back in his seat. “Something like that. Can you tell me something I’d really like to know?”

Kondraki was leaning severely to one side, trying to pick at his teeth with his secured hand. “Depends what it is.”

“What did she seem to think of all this?”

*

She was secretive, and nervous, and a lot more cautious than Kondraki was, always security conscious and asking him _but what if?_ But once it became clear that they weren’t going to be caught – and how could they, when Kondraki was able to pull as many strings as he could, being in the position he was in? – she was giggly and funny and opinionated and animated, so thoroughly human that Kondraki had found himself thinking of escape long before he was ever conscious of the matter.

Her name was Laura, and she preferred to be referred to as such whenever possible. She had never been a fan of labels or numbers even before all this, something that had caused much eye-rolling when she had been a teenager but was now just as true even though she had by this point recently entered her thirties. Aside from her anomalies she was, of course, in every way a completely normal woman, something that never failed to frustrate her.

“You have one thing weird about you,” she had said, sitting on the bed and painting her nails, flicking her hair over her shoulder every time it fell in front of her face, “and they lock you up forever. Where’s the logic in that? Christ. It’s like being sent to prison for life because you were found with a bit of weed on you.”

Kondraki had agreed, of course. He agreed with everyone who expressed that sentiment, apart from maybe the really destructive ones, the ones totally incapable of having normal lives. Still, it was something he did consider unfair. These people hadn’t asked for it, and sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be in their position. They were either born with it or something happened along the line; either way most of them had a taste of normal life before the Foundation closed in, and that made it all the crueller. They knew what they were missing. 

“I mean, is it really so bad?” Laura asked. “I’m thirty-one years old. I’ve been in here… what? Coming up a year now. I went thirty years without causing a problem.”

“But then you _did_ cause a problem,” Kondraki said. 

“Once,” Laura replied, rolling her eyes. “One time. And I won’t do it again.”

“But do you know that?”

“Of course I know that. It was an accident.”

Kondraki had heard that one before. It was always an accident, always something they would watch out for and avoid in future. Kondraki thought they meant it, too – why wouldn’t they? Unfortunately it wasn’t as easy as that. 

“So what do you guys _do_ here?” she asked abruptly. “Are you going to cure me?”

“To do that we need to work out how you do what you do.”

“So, experiments and stuff, then.”

“Well, yeah,” Kondraki said, and laughed. “Though it sounds bad when you just say it like that. You don’t have to do them. You can refuse. There are consent forms and things, you know? We can’t just start experimenting on you whenever. But a lot of people, they’re curious about what they can do, usually as much as we are. Maybe even more. So most people are alright with it.”

“What about the people who aren’t like… aware, or anything? Do you just leave them alone?”

“I don’t think I’ve told you that there are any people like that.”

“Well, hypothetically.”

“If they’re not aware of their surroundings, they’re not aware of what we’re doing.”

Laura looked at him, an eyebrow raised, and then she laughed. “That’s fucked up, doc. You sure you should be telling me this?”

Kondraki gave a small smile, not admitting that no, perhaps he shouldn’t. 

*

“Well, _I_ don’t know,” Kondraki said, after a long pause. Schuler was watching him in that intent way that medical professionals do – none more so than shrinks, Kondraki thought. Christ, sometimes he thought they could see right into his head, which only got more and more unnerving over the years. 

“She was alright with it?”

“With what?”

“The romantic aspect.”

“I don’t think we ever really acknowledged it that much.” Kondraki shifted slightly. “It was just… what it was.”

“And what it was seemed to be a romantic relationship.”

“I care about her a lot,” Kondraki said carefully, “and I suppose that it could be described as love. As far as I know, she feels the same way. Somehow that’s been translated into some kind of mental breakdown on my part, but we can’t both be crazy, can we?”

He laughed, a harsh thing that was a little too ragged around the edges, and supposed that he wasn’t doing himself any favours. Still, it seemed ridiculous to think that _this_ was a symptom of his rapidly declining mental health. He had known that he wasn’t exactly walking around with all the screws firmly tightened in his head but he thought that this was a bit excessive – not to mention depressing. He declares he’s in love with someone and they see it as being so out of character that he’s immediately said to be insane. Alright, perhaps he could have picked a better person to direct his affections towards – someone not out of bounds, perhaps, something that was a little more professional – but since when had anyone been able to control such things?

“Do you not think…” Schuler said, briefly trailing off as he always did when he was about to say something risky. Kondraki hated it; it always put him on edge, waiting to hear something that he knew he’d hate. 

“Well, I don’t know, unless you tell me,” Kondraki said, a little moody.

“Do you not think that there might have been an element of coercion involved?” Schuler eventually said, and Kondraki glared at him.

“An element of fucking what now?”

“Coercion,” Schuler said again, clearly, and Kondraki wondered if he’d be this fucking brave if his hands weren’t secured to this damn chair. “You are in a position of extreme authority, Dr Kondraki. She is, essentially, at your mercy. This is of course a hypothetical situation. Do you think she felt she could refuse?”

“She could kill me with one—” Kondraki began, but cut himself off; a habit, he supposed, of constantly being around so much classified information. “She didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to.”

“You couldn’t have made life difficult for her?”

“Of course not,” Kondraki said, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ. I’ve been a pain in O5’s ass for years, making sure people can’t fuck with the humanoid Scips when it comes to things like that. I’ve got so many checks and balances that I can hardly fart without someone checking it was all above board. Even if I had tried, it wouldn’t take long for it to get noticed, and then I would have been in hot water.”

“So you think she felt the same?”

“As far as I know,” Kondraki said firmly, “yes.”

*

“You’ve really never done this before?”

She looked doubtful. Both of them were sitting on the floor of her cell, but the security footage would only be able to see her. She was sitting cross-legged, laying out a game of Solitaire on the ground, and just on the other side of the cards sat Kondraki, covered on all camera angles by 408 who were, of course, projecting the cameras a solid picture of Laura, on her own, playing cards. She looked down at the cards as she spoke, her lips barely moving. 

“No,” Kondraki replied. “Honest.”

“I would have thought it happened more often,” Laura said, laughing quietly. “You know, if you really can get away with it.”

“It’s highly against the rules.”

“I imagine so. Especially for you. Aren’t you the boss around here?”

“Around here. But I have bosses too.” Kondraki paused. “Unfortunately.”

“Sounds like the same as working anywhere. You know, back on the outside, I didn’t have a job much unlike this. The dynamics, I mean.” She shrugged. “Obviously I wasn’t rounding up freaks and weirdos and locking them in cages—”

“ _Laura._ ”

“—but the office politics, you know? Bureaucracy and annoying bosses and busy work and all the usual complaints. It’s wild to think that it’s all the same, no matter what the stakes are.” She looked up, risking a small smile. “And don’t _Laura_ me. That’s what it feels like in here, and I know you agree. You can all be as nice as you like, but it’s still inhumane as hell.”

“Well, I don’t think I deny that too much.” He gave a small smile in return, if a little tinged with guilt. “I know better than most people what this place can be like.”

“Not as well as I do,” Laura said.

“Perhaps not,” Kondraki replied, “but others know it better than you, too.”

She looked at him then, cleverly staring off to the side like she was considering the game in front of her, but her quizzical expression was only for him. She seemed to be reading him, he thought, looking at him in a way that always made him squirm – funny, but looking back Kondraki would realise it had reminded him of the shrinks; of how Schuler looked at him when he recounted the story months later. 

“Why do you stay here?” she asked, and that had been when Kondraki had had the stupid idea to begin with.

*

“Now before you say it,” Kondraki said loudly, “it was my idea, to try and escape and all that. She never mentioned it, and I was the one who brought it up first. She was actually reluctant, until things really started to get moving and I saw she finally believed it might be possible. So don’t go blaming her for this, because that much was me.”

Schuler nodded, and Kondraki slumped back in his chair a little, taken aback by how much he seemed to care.

“So your plan was, essentially, to run away together.”

“God,” Kondraki said, and he would have dragged his hand down his face if he had been able to. “Don’t say it like that. It sounds fucking awful. _Juvenile_.”

“I assume you realise just what a far-fetched plan it was?”

“Well, of course it was. But it’s not the first far-fetched plan I’ve ever had, and compared to some of them this one seemed rather tame.”

“What did you plan to do once you were out?”

“I don’t know,” Kondraki said, sighing. “See the world, I guess. Try and get back to normal.”

“But you must have known that would never be possible for either of you,” Schuler said, his tone oddly gentle. “Her, an escaped Scip, potentially very dangerous, and you, a rogue Foundation administrator. There would have been a manhunt, and we all know that when it comes to the Foundation’s track record, those are quite successful.”

“I know, I know. But I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I wouldn’t have bothered attempting it if I didn’t think it was feasible.” He shook his head and then paused, catching Schuler’s eye. “Don’t look at me like that, man. I can’t say I appreciate it.”

“Look at you like what?”

“I don’t know. Like you’re sorry for me.”

“Forgive me, Dr Kondraki, but it’s a sad situation. You’ve thrown away a lot.”

“So, what?” Kondraki asked, snorting. “What are they going to do, do you think? Throw me in the psychiatric ward for the rest of my days?”

“Well, there will probably be a stay there,” Schuler said, “but after that I suppose you’ll retire.”

Kondraki blinked. “That’s it? They’ll just put me out to pasture?”

“The lines are very blurred, Doctor. Gross misconduct, yes, that seems pretty clear. But you have to understand that that’s quite lenient, compared to what some people are accusing you of.”

“What are people accusing me of?” Kondraki demanded, and for the first time Schuler looked a little uncomfortable. 

“Well, you know,” he said, beginning to twirl a pen around in his hand. Kondraki watched it, over and under each finger, spinning around to repeat again. Schuler seemed to do it without thinking. “The power imbalance has made a few people uncomfortable, and you must understand that it does look a little odd. You are in a position of authority, and she is in a vulnerable position.”

“Yes,” Kondraki said coldly, “you mentioned this.”

“Well,” Schuler said again, “some people are saying that because of this imbalance, and certainly because of your superior rank, that by nature it cannot be consensual.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like we were in there at it like rabbits—”

“It’s not necessarily a _sexual_ aspect, Dr Kondraki. It’s more the principal of the matter. Like how it would be highly inappropriate for a professor to have a romantic relationship with their student, even if both professor and student were consenting adults.”

“You need two people to fucking consent to being in a relationship anyway,” Kondraki said angrily. “If one person is like, oh, we’re dating, and the other people is like, no, we’re not, then you’re not fucking dating. To think otherwise would be delusional.”

“Exactly,” Schuler said, looking at him closely. Kondraki opened his mouth to protest, but Schuler seemed to harden his look, and for once, Kondraki took the hint. 

*

There were no guards with Kondraki, but there were with Laura; in some kind of exchange, she didn’t have her hands fastened to the seat. She sat sullenly, bored of things before they had even started, and that felt like years ago now. 

“There’s one final thing, before we wrap all this up,” Schuler said, as he finished shuffling through his papers and looked at her.

“Yeah?” she asked. “Want me to go through it all one more time?”

He gave a small smile. “No. I’m sure you’re bored to tears of it.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“There’s just one final question.”

She looked at him a little sharply. “It’s not going to be about if I wanted to or not, is it? Because I’ve been asked that so many times and yes, I know it was inappropriate, and I know it paints him in a bad way, and I really do resent everyone acting like I’m some weak little—”

“It’s not,” Schuler assured her, and with a shaky exhale, she quietened. 

“Alright,” she said, sitting back expectantly. “Let’s hear it.”

“Why did you come forward with the escape plan?”

She started slightly, as though the words had physically struck her. She blinked several times and then caught her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing for a moment. Finally she sighed. 

“It probably wouldn’t have worked,” she said, slowly, “and if it had we wouldn’t have had much of a life. I was worried that he might not survive it, and I just… I don’t know. I didn’t want that to happen. I care about him. Perhaps I even love him, but I’ve been told I’m not allowed to say that.”

“No,” Schuler said, though he sounded sympathetic. “If you want to protect him, it would be best to not say that.”

“He’s delusional, right?” Laura asked flatly. “Just needs to retire.”

“Yes,” replied Schuler, “I think that would be for the best.”


End file.
